As a quadriplegic black woman with white skin, a penis, and an able body, who identifies as a same-age-loving trans-8-year-old: I know firsthand what it is like to be different. I know the pervasiveness of bigotry, and the importance of intersectionality for helping the world advance to the next phase of human evolution.
But transphobia is real, and it is tearing apart love, happiness, and the climate.
Nevertheless, I know that I am a hero. And as a hero, I know that it is my responsibility to use my brave voice to speak out, for those who are not as courageous and strong as me.
Therefore, following are some examples of the hatred that I have experienced as an omni-trans, and how I heroically overcame the haters.
Racist transphobes hate me because I am not cisracial-identifying. Some have even suggested that I am not allowed to say the nigger-word — “because,” they say, “you’re not really black.” Whatever that means. Every time they tell me, “Nah — you are white…dumbass,” or simply yell out “hey, white person!” — I relive what it felt like for my nigger ancestors who were lynched simply for raping and murdering white women.
Sexist transphobes hate me because I am not cisgender-identifying. Some transexclusionary radical feminists have even hatefully schlong-shamed me: asking me to leave the gossip-drenched misandrist pity-parties I was attending as a feminist fighting for our womanly right to do whatever we want, with impunity. They said that I “had the weapon of the enemy between my legs.” So I broke those bitches eyesockets — Fallon Fox style.
Ableist transphobes hate me because I am not cisability-identifying. Just because my arms and legs function does not mean I am not disabled: ability and function have nothing to do with each other. Next, these ableist transphobes will be saying Barack Obama cannot joke that he bowls like a retard, because he does not qualify as black since his white mom’s vagina did not satisfy his black dad enough to prevent him from beating her and then abandoning his mongrel spawn.
Ageist transphobia is what hurts my trans-soul most of all. As all fully-human beings know: you cannot help who you love. Ted Buddy knew you can’t help who you love, when he made love to all those trans-willing women. John Wayne Gacy knew you can’t help who you love, when he had trans-consensual sex with all those boys. And Ed Kemper knew you can’t help who you love, as he expressed his love to his mother’s decapitated corpse.
You can’t help who you love. And yet I type this as a political prisoner in a jail cell on death row, because the bigoted cavemen who make the laws in this country refuse to acknowlege that age is a social-construct. They refuse to accept the obvious fact that since I identify as an 8-year-old, my same-age-sexuality is acceptable. Worse: they claim that I killed and dismembered all those 8-year-olds against their will — even though I have written proof that each child had signed its consent, in blood, with the finger I severed from it with bolt-cutters.
I wish I had thought to identify as Roman Polanski.
Fortunately, since I identify as Jewish, before my execution, the state has authorized my final meal to be mutilated baby penis. So thank trans-god for Metzitzah B’peh!